


shake this feeling

by ghostmachine



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Modern AU, bookshop! elsa, musician au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22131148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostmachine/pseuds/ghostmachine
Summary: Northuldra is the hottest new band on the pop/rock market, and Elsa’s dating the frontwoman.She just hopes a three month tour won’t tear them apart.
Relationships: Elsa/Honeymaren (Disney)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 196





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> rating mostly applies for future chapters! 
> 
> title is taken from Shake this Feeling by Switchfoot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> song featured in this chapter is Wild Heart by Bleachers

The bass pulses straight to the heart, sending vibrations through fingers and toes. Elsa feels it all over, and the strobe lights threaten to blind her. 

She can’t keep the smile off her face.

Northuldra is halfway through their set, playing one of her favorite songs. The bass player, Bruni, bounces around stage while Ryder shakes a sweaty mop of hair behind the drum kit. Video screens play a blur of forestry, architecture, and open roads. 

The crowd wails. It’s like an ocean, Elsa thinks: shifting, untenable, gorgeous. And people are surfing it like one, too. They’re eating it up, this blend of pop and rock that’s currently taking the world by storm. There are hardly words for this scene, bursting tempo and effervescence. It’s electric, magnetic. 

And, like everyone else in the room, Elsa’s eyes are glued to the frontwoman. 

Maren’s hair hangs lose in the humidity, curls forming at the ends. A deep v-neck t-shirt reveals her chest, glistening with sweat; a silver necklace hangs from a chain around her neck. Her pearl blue Fender Jaguar hangs from a strap slung across her back, and her fingers are ripping an impromptu solo to ratchet the cheers even louder. She works her way from one side of the stage to the other, pumping her fist after every other down beat. Her eyes glisten in the spotlight, her mouth hanging open in pure surrender. A fraction of a second before the chorus drops, she runs back to the mic. 

_Everything has changed_

_And now it’s only you that matters_

_I will find any way to your wild heart_

You can barely hear her over the roar of the crowd, chanting along with her. But the song is really only for one person.

“I still don’t understand how you managed to date someone this cool!” Anna screams over the bass line in Elsa’s ear. Elsa looks sheepish, shrugs her shoulders. She catches Kristoff’s eyes across the table - he’s just laughing at them, nodding along to the beat. 

Truthfully, it’s something she can hardly fathom herself. 

* * *

_It’s a snowy, slippery February night in Arendelle. Flakes fall heavy and thick just outside the window as Elsa looks on, lost in thought. City lights reflect around her, and even at this late hour pedestrians bustle, shuffling along sidewalks to keep their footing. But here, the world is quiet. Here, she’s safe._

_Elsa’s eyes scan the diner around her. Save for a middle-aged man hunched over the bar, she’s alone, left to sit with a cup of tea and the sizzle of the grill from the kitchen. It’s kind of a seedy, 24-hour place with dim lighting and a sleepy night crew, but it’s been a haven for her for years. Just around the corner from the bookstore where she works, Elsa often stops in for a late dinner after her shift, and even more often loses track of time in her corner booth. She’s received more than a few panicked calls from Anna on nights like these._

“Elsa, where the _hell_ are you?! I swear, if you’re at that crappy diner by yourself again…”

_But Elsa can take care of herself, and Anna knows it. Besides, it’s only a few blocks off of the city center, the streets Elsa’s roamed since she was a child._

_Still, these nights are her favorite - when the city is blanketed in snow, and there’s not a soul searching for her. She’s in the booth she’s all but claimed as her own, book in hand, forging a rare truce with circumstance and melancholy._

_If she lets herself go far enough, she can almost feel her mother’s fingers poking at her knees below the table, her smile beaming only feet away. But it’s been years since Iduna brought her here. For this one night, Elsa accepts a warm nostalgia in place of despair, makes peace with her own anxiety._

_Her nose is buried in an 800-page volume, eyes beginning to droop a little, when that peace is interrupted._

_Raucous and resounding, three strangers stumble through the door, bringing a chilling blast of winter air that pervades for several moments throughout the restaurant. A woman and two men, drunk or high or maybe just obnoxious, seat themselves just a few booths down, and Elsa rolls her eyes as they high five like frat bros before ordering stacks of pancakes. They’re clearly excited about something (_ amped _, Anna would say), though about what Elsa couldn’t begin to guess._

_She checks - 10 pages til the end of the chapter - and decides to finish up before heading home._

_But only two pages in she gets suspicious: the guys keep pointing at her, jeering at their female companion. Her grip tightens on the novel, pulse quickening slightly. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d gotten unwanted attention, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. If these past years have taught her anything, it’s that she_ can _handle herself. Still, she’d rather not get into it with two guys whose biceps are twice the size of her thighs._

_She waves for her check and that’s when it happens - the woman stands shakily, approaching her. Elsa should feel guarded, project aloofness as usual, but peering over her book, it’s hard to feel anything when she sees the stranger up close. Thick hair gathered in a single braid falls on her left shoulder, spilling out of a mossy green baseball cap, and sparks some far-off familiarity in Elsa’s brain. The woman’s eyes are impossibly dark, gaining depth with every step closer. Sure, Elsa should really question why she’s approaching her, but it’s impossible when she’s trying to guess how many freckles one stranger’s face can possibly hold._

_Too late, she realizes the woman has spoken. Elsa shakes her head, puts her book down._

_“I’m sorry, what?”_

_“_ I’m _sorry. To interrupt, I mean. It’s just..._ The Goldfinch. _Donna Tartt is my favorite.” It takes a moment for Elsa to register that she’s referring to the book on the table._

_“Oh,” Elsa breathes. “Oh, yes. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? Her prose is lovely.”_

_The woman nods her head. Elsa hears the men behind her snicker, punching each other’s shoulders. She whips her head around to toss them what Elsa can only assume is a searing gaze, because they stop instantly._

_“Sorry about them,” she says, rolling her eyes, “they’re assholes.”_

_The woman is still standing over her and Elsa’s mouth is dry. She glances down at the stranger’s hands, a deep tan, fingernails blunts and veins protruding. She licks her lips._

_“Why are you out with those ‘assholes’ at,” Elsa checks her watch, “1:24 am?” Jesus, Anna was going to kill her for being so late this time._

_The woman shrugs._

_“They’re_ my _assholes.”_

_Elsa chuckles._

_“I see.”_

_“I’m Maren, by the way,” she says, extending a hand. Elsa grasps it, feels her body flood with warmth at the touch. It’s all she can do not to let a shiver run down her spine. “Honeymaren, actually. But that’s an insane name, isn’t it? I mean, who names their kid_ Honeymaren _? So just Maren is fine.”_

_Elsa can’t put a finger on it, but something about this girl’s nervous energy makes her break out into a grin._

_“Maren,” she says, and she loves the way her name feels in her mouth, “I’m Elsa. Just Elsa is fine.”_

_The woman’s face softens, their hands still grasped together._

_“Elsa. I-I thought it was you.” She breathes out, looking slightly overwhelmed. “You’re practically royalty in this town. What are_ you _doing out by yourself this late?”_

_Elsa shrugs, looking down into her cooling tea._

_“Helps clear my mind. I don’t sleep much anyways.”_

_She looks back up at Maren to find her gripping her arm, anxiety written on her face, and a sadness as well._

_“Forgive me, but I-I greatly admired your parents. Your mother especially. We all did.”_

_It’s nothing Elsa hasn’t heard before; her parents are legends in Arendelle, after all. For nearly a decade, her father served as mayor, leading with dignity and fairness. Her mother, though technically not an official, contributed greatly to the prosperity that now reigned, implementing programs and systems to ensure that everyone in the city - especially those who were disadvantaged - could thrive. Elsa has hardened herself against mentions of her late parents, but this one shakes her._

_“Thank you. I appreciate that.”_

_Their spell is broken when the waitress returns with her bill. She looks dead on her feet, but lights up when she sees Elsa’s companion._

_“I’m sorry,” she says timidly, “but are you -_ Northuldra _?” The waitress is looking at her with wonder, excitement, and the spark connects in Elsa’s mind._

Of course _, she thinks._ Northuldra _. That band Anna won’t shut up about._

_Maren just laughs, shoves her hands into her coat pockets._

_“Yes, I’m in Northuldra with those idiots over there.”_

_“Oh man,” the waitress gasps, “I saw you guys last week at the Fillmore! You absolutely killed it!”_

_Maren and the waitress exchange pleasantries before a bell rings from the kitchen, chiming order up. The young girl excuses herself and Elsa’s left with Maren again._

_“I’m sorry,” Maren starts, “you probably want to get out of here.” She gestures to Elsa’s check. Elsa nods._

_“My sister will be waiting up for me. She worries about me this late, especially in the snow.” She’s not sure why she’s telling Maren all of this, but something about her feels safe._

_Maren’s eyes widen._

_“You’re not going to walk home in this storm alone, are you?”_

_“It’s only a few blocks.”_

_“Well, with that brick of a novel weighing you down, you might just slip and fall.” Maren bites at her bottom lip. “Can I see you home?”_

_“You mean walk with me?”_

_“Yes, I…” Maren sighs, “I don’t know if that’s creepy or, or inappropriate, but I’d hate to see you out alone this late.”_

_In any other situation, Elsa knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would deny a complete stranger offering to walk her home (and she’d grip the mace in her pocket a little tighter, too). But a little voice in her head, something that feels like intuition, tells her to trust this woman._

_She wonders what all those freckles look like brushed with snow._

_“Yes, of course,” she answers. “You’ll probably make my sister feel better, in any case.”_

_And so they walk. They walk, and chat, and brace themselves against the windy cold. At one point, Elsa slips on a patch of black ice. Maren grabs her tightly before she falls and the rest of the way, her arm is wrapped securely around Elsa’s waist. Despite the cold, Elsa is warm all over, and she can feel every brush of fingers beneath layers of gloves and winter coats._

_When they reach the entrance, Maren looks up at her nervously, moving closer and closer with each passing moment. They stand in silence, shaking, snowflakes sticking to their eyelashes. Elsa’s heart pounds in her chest._

_And then Maren says it._

_“Elsa, I just…” Elsa’s cheeks flush at the look in Maren’s eyes. “I feel like if I don’t kiss you I’m going to regret it.” And Elsa’s world explodes._

* * *

The end of the song brings her back to reality. Maren’s hand is held high in the air, beaming at the crowd beneath her. Elsa feels a swell of pride. 

“Alright,” Maren yells into the mic, “you guys got a few more left in you?” 

The cheers echo into the opening bars of the next song. 

* * *

It’s late, too late - Elsa has a shift in the morning at the bookstore, but she finds herself sitting upright on Maren’s couch, the TV playing some NBC sitcom on low volume. She had planned to leave the show early, see Maren off the next morning, but her girlfriend had texted her just before Northuldra’s set.

 **Honey:** _Any chance you can spend the night at home tonight? I’ll miss you too much._

 _Home._ Elsa’s heart had jumped at the word. Maren had never used it before as though it belonged to both of them, and yet Elsa had known what she was asking. So she stayed through the encore, had Anna and Kristoff to drop her off at Maren’s apartment across town. She let herself in with the key Maren had given her for her birthday a few months ago. 

It’s rare that she’s here alone, and Elsa takes the moment to soak in Maren’s apartment - while she still can. The decor is rugged, nothing special, all earth tones and so Maren. A large bookshelf lines one wall, half full of novels and the other half housing her extensive record collection. A vintage stereo sits quietly in the corner. There’s the coffee table, which Maren constantly has her feet on; the little dish by the door where she’s meant to leave her keys, but always forgets; photos of Maren and Ryder on the walls and next to them, newer photos of her and Elsa. She’s looking at the green shag carpet when she realizes this _does_ feel like home, even more so than the penthouse suite she’s shared with Anna for many years. 

Elsa inhales deeply. It smells like home, too; there’s a little plug in the wall putting out the scent of pine, the same as the hardwood floors, and the aroma of sauce and pasta lingers from the nearby kitchen. The rest is something distinctly Maren, like earth and lavender. Elsa smiles, checking the time.

Maren is taking longer than usual to get home from the show, but Elsa assumes she’s swamped with adoring fans outside the venue, as is becoming more frequent these days. She sighs, letting her head drop back against the couch, when her phone chimes.

 **Honey:** Almost there, sorry Snowflake!

 **Honey:** I keep telling Ry to drive faster but he says he’s “already going 5 over.” Grow a pair, buddy!

Elsa laughs, both at her girlfriend’s constantly impulse for recklessness and at how similar Maren’s sibling dynamic is to her own. She can usually sympathize with Ryder, but tonight she just wants to hold her love before her eyes grow too heavy. It’s a battle she’s quickly losing.

All too soon, Maren is shaking her awake, the gentle movement causing Elsa to jolt. 

“Just me, sweetheart.”

Maren’s hand is still on her shoulder, and despite being covered in a sheen of grime and sweat Elsa’s breath still catches at her girlfriend’s face looking down at her. 

“Hi,” she says quietly, rubbing a hand over her face. “Sorry, I must have dozed off.” 

Maren’s face softens.

“It’s late, no need to apologize. I’m sorry I took so long. I was trying to sneak away but Bruni kept attracting more fangirls.” She rolls her eyes.

“It was a great show. The people love you,” Elsa murmurs. 

“Yes, well, the _people_ ,” Maren starts, moving to pick Elsa up bridal style and carrying her to the bedroom, “don’t realize that I have the most beautiful woman on the _planet_ waiting for me at home. So,” she sets Elsa down gently on the bed, “they can suck it, just for tonight.” 

Elsa chuckles, reaching up to trace Maren’s collarbone with her thumb where it’s visible beneath her flannel shirt. Maren leans in to peck her lips. 

“Let me just go get washed up and I’ll come to bed.” 

Elsa yawns. 

“Kay.” 

She loves these nights: when she’s settled, warm and comfortable in her girlfriend’s bed, the bathroom light the only thing illuminating the bedroom. She hears the faucet run, sees Maren washing her face through the crack in the door. These are the nights that make her feel certain, more than anything. It’s intimacy beyond something she’s ever experienced, and some time ago she realized she never wanted it to end. 

Maren climbs into bed next to her, her legs bare and so soft as they tangle with Elsa’s. She hums softly as Elsa nuzzles her head into the hollow of her neck, breathes her favorite lullaby into Elsa’s skin. 

_Where the north wind_

_Meets the sea_

She feels Elsa start to tremble in her arms and suddenly hot tears are flowing fast down her neck. Maren brings a hand up to cradle Elsa’s head.

“Hey, _hey_ ,” she says softly, pressing kisses to the crown of her girlfriend’s head. 

“Elsa, I know. I know.” Tears burn at the corners of her own eyes.

“I’m going to miss you,” Elsa sobs quietly, her voice catching. 

All Maren can do is sigh, hold her closer, wipe at her eyes before she cracks. 

“It’s only three and a half months, love, and you’ll see me halfway through.” Despite her confidence, her voice shakes. “We can do this.” 

Maren’s never felt so existentially torn in her life. On the opening night of Northuldra’s first national headlining tour, high off of a hometown show to kick things off, she’s eager beyond words to take their music to places she’s only ever dreamed of. If someone had told her just a few years ago that this was a possibility for their band, she would have sold her soul to make it a reality. But now, the wrench in all of Maren’s plans lies in her arms, desperate and crying for her, and it nearly shatters her.

Since meeting in the diner just over a year ago, Elsa and Maren had become almost inseparable. It was strange for Maren to think that she could go a day or even multiple days without seeing her girlfriend’s face or hearing her voice. No matter how convenient cellphones made long distance relationships, she knew it was inevitable that there would be days on tour when she wouldn’t have the time to spare. Elsa knew it, too, but it didn’t mean that either of them had to like it.

Maren rubs at Elsa’s back, her sobs eventually subsiding as her breathing evened.

“I’m sorry,” Elsa sighs. “I’m being so selfish. This is your dream.” She presses a lingering kiss to the corner of Maren’s mouth; Maren turns, kissing her fully. With a feather light touch, Elsa runs the back of her hand across her girlfriend’s cheek. 

“I hope you know how proud I am of you.” Maren feels her chest swell. 

“I understand, Snowflake. You have no idea,” she exhales deeply, “how much I’ll miss you.” Elsa’s lip trembles again and so Maren pulls it between her own, kisses her senseless, pouring herself into it. The air between them is heavy, damp with the coming spring. Elsa’s leg shifts to rest between Maren’s, making them both gasp. Elsa’s lips move softly against her own as her hips roll.

“Maybe you can show me, then.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is by far the longest thing i’ve ever written, so feedback is greatly appreciated! come find me @thedarkestseas on tumblr, because that’s apparently still a thing people do. song used in this chapter is Wild Heart by Bleachers. 
> 
> here's Maren's guitar, if you're interested: https://www.guitarcenter.com/Fender/Player-Jaguar-Pau-Ferro-Fingerboard-Electric-Guitar-Tidepool-1500000219423.gc


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elsa adjusts to life without Honeymaren, with a little help from her sister.
> 
> song featured is Love Letters by Paper Route

The next few weeks are both a blur and a grind. Elsa’s hardly sleeping, drinking way more coffee than usual to get through her shifts at the bookstore. Maren calls when she can, FaceTimes her from green rooms, a new city each time. She takes her on tours backstage and Elsa glimpses the periphery of Maren’s new world; the road crew, their sound girl, the equipment they load in and load out every single day. Maren texts her late at night, after shows and food and showers, laying in her tour bus bunk bed, complaining about Ryder’s snoring. Elsa is almost always awake, and she almost always answers. 

And maybe it’s her imagination, or just a matter of her attention, but Northuldra seems to be blowing up around her. Her bookshop sells a small selection of vinyl and recently got a shipment of their debut album, which sold out in a matter of days. It brings a soft smile to her face, seeing young girls approach the register, gripping the album tightly and eager to get it home. Of course, they’re typically chattering to each other about Maren; Elsa catches words like  _ talented  _ and  _ original  _ and  _ major babe _ . The last one makes her ears go red each time. In any case, it’s nice that people are too excited about the record to recognize the former mayor’s daughter ringing it up.

She and Maren have intentionally kept their relationship private; Elsa and Anna often appear in tabloids around town, riddled with speculation about their dating life (or, in Elsa’s case, lack thereof). They’ve been distracted the last two years, ever since Anna publicly announced her engagement to Kristoff, and now they’re desperately hunting for details on their upcoming wedding. With Maren as her date, Elsa knows it’ll be tough to avoid scrutiny after that - but she’s just glad Maren will be home in time. 

The wedding has her thinking of the future more and more often. She wonders how long before she becomes an aunt - a prospect that both delights and terrifies her. She’s been considering grad school more seriously lately; ever since visiting her father’s introductory law course as a child, she’s had a vision of herself standing at the blackboard just like him, relaying fundamental principles to eager young minds. And really, she can’t work retail forever. 

In every case, every version of the future she can imagine, Maren is there beside her. Elsa thinks of the promises they’ve whispered into bare skin, fantasies she frequents of her girlfriend on one knee. She recalls recurring dreams of little brown-haired children running around some beautiful home in Arendelle; remembers the time Maren slipped, asserting that “our kids will  _ not  _ play soccer.”

There was a time not so long ago when Elsa couldn’t see any sort of future for herself. Depression and anxiety hung like a veil over her, grief an inescapable spector. But time and love had changed her (therapy helped, too). Now most days she’s itching to move forward, together with her family. 

* * *

She’s walking home one day amidst the rush hour foot traffic when she swears she hears Maren’s voice. She stops in her tracks, whips her head around, blocking the sidewalk as she searches for the source. It’s just when she’s managed to convince herself she imagined the whole thing that she spots Maren through a window - an interview playing on wide TV screens in the lobby of a news station headquartered on a nearby corner. She runs against the crowd, pushes through the revolving doors to catch what she can of it, and up close she can see Maren clearly. 

She’s shocked by how tired her girlfriend looks, but only subtly so; Elsa can see the circles under her eyes, the slight slump in her shoulders, things any other observer would completely miss. Maren’s doing a great job of hiding it, though, talking excitedly about the tour and their album, which continues to rise on the charts.

“Honeymaren,” the interviewer starts. She interrupts.

“Just Maren, please.” Elsa giggles, knowing how annoyed Maren is by her full name.

“Right, Maren, sorry. Your album has been met with great critical success, and it’s really proving to be a crossover hit among fans of all sorts of genres. Was that an intentional choice on your part?” 

Elsa shifts her gaze to Bruni and Ryder, fidgeting nervously behind Maren. Despite how many times she’s seen her on stage, she’s impressed by her composure and the confidence she projects on camera. A true frontwoman. 

“Well, we all kind of have our own tastes that we’ve lent to the album. My brother Ryder and grew up mostly on folk music, but as we grew we diverged. He was listening to punk rock while I was really interested in a more pop/alt sound. And Bruni,” she laughs, “Bruni’s kind of the outlier. He listens to a lot of hard rap, and weirdly a lot of Broadway as well. So we all have these different backgrounds and different influences, but we’re really just trying to make music that moves people. It’s an honor to hear that it has done that so far.” 

Elsa feels a pang in her chest. It’s overwhelming, watching her girlfriend achieve everything she’s ever dreamed of. So many nights they would lay in bed together and Maren would be planning out setlists and stage design, and so many nights Maren would only stumble into bed after finishing up lyrics on a new song. Elsa’s favorite mornings found her sitting at the kitchen table, cup of coffee in hand, Maren sitting across from her with an acoustic guitar and sleepy eyes. Northuldra fans would never hear the countless iterations of those songs, worked out over eggs and hashbrowns, or know how much more beautiful they sounded when sung with Maren’s deep, scratchy morning voice. 

The video ends with the interviewer rattling off upcoming tour dates, holding up a copy of the record, and when it shifts to a daily news reporter, Elsa stays frozen in place. She reaches into her pocket for her phone, the screen illuminating a silly photo of her and Maren from Anna’s last birthday party. She opens her text thread. 

**Just saw your interview in center city at The Daily! You big shot, you!**

Elsa bites her lip, waits for those three bubbles to pop up to indicate a forthcoming response. She waits, and waits. After some time, she figures she should stop standing in the news station lobby like a crazy person and make her way home. The sun has since set, and she pulls her jean jacket close around her. 

* * *

_ Elsa yawns as she waits at the bar after a particularly late show in a particularly shitty bar. The ice in her drink has melted and she twirls a straw round and round, her head in her hand. Still, she’s infected with a warmth and an intimacy, knowing she’s waiting for Maren, knowing she’d wait any number of hours after any number of shows in any variety of venues. It never gets old, watching her girlfriend do what she was so clearly born for.  _

_ Strong arms wrap around her waist from behind, soft lips pressing against her cheek.  _

_ “Hey, Snowflake. Thanks for waiting so long.” She sits on the barstool next to Elsa, holding up a finger to get the bartender’s attention. _

_ “Whiskey neat, please.” She carries an exhaustion in her shoulders, and yet Elsa can sense a buzz about her. _

_ “Everything okay?” she asks, wondering what held her up so long.  _

_ “Better than okay! See that guy over there?” Maren points to a man talking to Bruni near the stage. He looks to be middle aged and, judging by his clothes, very wealthy. “His name is Oaken, I think he said, and he’s an agent! Els, I think he wants to sign us!”  _

_ It’s only a matter of days before Oaken has Northuldra in his office, and only a matter of minutes before Elsa’s phone rings.  _

_ “Babe, it happened! We are officially no longer an indie band! Oaken’s already booking us time to record the album, and he’s talking about lining up a tour - a  _ headlining  _ tour! Els, I can’t believe it!” Maren’s giddiness is palpable through the phone, and Elsa wishes she could see the look on her face. _

_ “Mare, that’s so incredible,” Elsa replies earnestly. She’s proud with every fiber of her being, and she feels vindicated after reminding her girlfriend so often that their big break was surely coming. Now that it’s here, though, Elsa can’t help but wonder what it means for  _ them _.  _

_ Anna would probably smack her upside the head for even thinking it.  _

_ “Oh shit, I gotta go,” Maren says, “Ryder’s calling me. I’m walking home now. Come over tonight, okay? We have to celebrate!” _

_ “I’ll bring the champagne.” _

_ “I love you, baby!”  _

* * *

Maren never texts back, but she FaceTimes Elsa only a few minutes after she’s home. Elsa sits on the couch with her feet up, listening to Anna make dinner in the background as Maren takes her on a tour of the downtown area they’re playing in tonight. 

“Already hit up that record store over there, I swear I’ll have to buy a new bookshelf when I get home. I think we’re going to have dinner at that taco place. Els, I have eaten more tacos in the past three weeks than I have in my entire life. I’m worried for my intestines.” 

Elsa laughs, holding her phone between her knees, picking at her fingernails. 

“I’m sure it can’t compare to Anna’s cooking. What are we having tonight, sis?” she calls out. Anna huffs, clearly frustrated.

“Spaghetti, but the sauce keeps burning! I don’t know how mother did it.” 

Maren laughs. 

“Aww, I miss that girl. How was your day, babe? I mean, besides seeing your totally famous, totally awesome girlfriend live on air?” 

Elsa hums, relaxes into the comfy pillow she’s resting against. 

“You know, same old. We sold out of the record again at work.” 

Maren shakes her head.

“Yeah, well, Oaken’s already pushing for another one. Ugh.” She digs head forehead into her palm. In the distance behind her, Elsa can see Ryder catching up with his sister.

“Honeymaren, time to eat!” And then he and Bruni are chanting “Time to eat! Time to eat! Time to eat!” 

Maren rolls her eyes. 

“Remind me why I’m in a band with these idiots? I have to go. But I’m gonna call you tonight if you’re up, Els. I want to hear how  _ you’re  _ doing. Not how the record’s selling, okay?”

Elsa nods. 

“Okay.” 

“I know this long distance thing isn’t ideal but-” 

Anna yells again from the kitchen.

“Been there, doing that!”

They both laugh. It’s true: Anna and Kristoff have it way worse. Kristoff is nearly always off in some other country, but such is the life of an international business manager. Selfishly, it makes Elsa feel a little better to know Anna has to endure the same misery. 

“Anyway,” Maren says, “just know I love you. I’ll talk to you tonight.”

“Love you, too. Have a great show, Mare.” 

“Thanks, Snowflake.” 

* * *

Later that night, Elsa’s wide awake in bed, streaming Northuldra’s Instagram live feed. They’re all sweaty, thrumming with post-show energy, answering the inane and often disgusting questions that come in through the comments section. Elsa glances at the corner of the screen, and her eyes widen at the number of viewers, pushing 10,000 active fans. 

“Let’s see,” Ryder says, holding the phone up high as Bruni tries to snatch it away. “Ooh! Here’s a good one, Brun. Would you rather have pit stains for a month,  _ or  _ have to sniff all your coworkers’ poop?” 

“ _ Ryder! _ ” Elsa hears Maren yell, exasperated in the background. She’s laughing; a full body laugh she hasn’t experienced in several weeks.

“Well,” Bruni shrugs, “none of my clothes are ever clean, and I already have to smell Maren’s poop all the time.”

“Okay,  _ that’s it! Give me the phone, Ryder!” _ The camera goes shaky as Maren all but tackles her brother, and as Elsa turns her phone to get a better view, there’s a knock at the door. She quickly closes the app, hiding her phone under her pillow. She clears her voice.

“Come in!”

Anna pushes the door open, a mug of something steaming in her hand. 

“Up late again, sis? I brought you some tea,” she says, handing Elsa the mug.

“Thank you. And I could say the same for you.” 

Anna shrugs.

“Kristoff’s on the west coast this week. He’ll be calling in a little bit.” She sighs. “Els, why the fuck did we choose to be with people who are never here?” 

Elsa laughs, a bitter taste in her mouth.

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?” Anna nods, settling in next to her sister on the bed.

“Oh well. Just makes it better when they come home. You’ll see.” She bumps Elsa’s shoulder with her own. “How are you holding up, kiddo?” 

Elsa takes a sip of her tea, made perfectly as only Anna can. 

“Last I checked, you’re  _ my  _ baby sister.” 

“Uh uh, no deflecting. Come on, you must have some complaints in that big beautiful brain of yours.” 

Elsa hesitates.

“How do you two do it? With Kristoff of the road so often?”

Anna plays with the ends of her night shirt, looking contemplative.

“We talk on the phone, probably too much, as you know. Sometimes he writes me love letters. And,” she shrugs again, “I always know he’ll come back to me. Really, it’s just about...making each other a priority, you know?”

Elsa chews on the inside of her cheek. Maren is her first relationship, first love, first everything. She’s so new to all of it, constantly worrying she’ll mess things up. 

Anna takes her sister’s hand.

“I see it, Elsa. The way Maren looks at you - what the two of you have - it’s a once in a lifetime kind of thing. Don’t let your insecurities get the better of you.” She stands, kissing Elsa’s temple.

“Night, sis. Get some  _ sleep _ . And don’t forget, charades this Friday when Kristoff’s back.”

Elsa wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

* * *

_ She’s restocking shelves, working through the sci-fi section, when she hears a voice above her.  _

_ “Uhm, excuse me, miss, but where’s the Donna Tartt?”  _

_ She nearly hits her head on a shelf, standing quickly.  _

_ “Maren! What are you doing here?” A pile of mass market novels falls from her arms, Elsa feels a blush spread from her cheeks down through her chest. The last person she expected to show up during her shift is the semi-locally-famous rock star who’d kissed her breathless outside her apartment only a few nights before. _

_ Maren’s looking far too cool in a black leather jacket, hair braided tight on one side to expose her skull. She laughs at Elsa’s clumsiness.  _

_ “Oh, you know, I was in the neighborhood.” _

_ “Don’t you live across town?” Elsa asks suspiciously, not buying her ruse for a second.  _

_ “Ah, you caught me, Snowflake.” The nickname is new, and it makes Elsa’s heart race. “Guess I should ‘fess up.” She hides her hands in her pockets, glancing around at the shop, which at the moment happens to be particularly busy. Elsa can’t help but think she looks beautiful under the lights, silhouetted against the darkness outside.  _

_ “So I need your help.” Elsa tilts her head, confused.  _

_ “I met this girl the other night, right? And like, she’s  _ way  _ out of my league.” Elsa chuckles, quickly getting Maren’s game. “But she’s gorgeous, she’s got great taste in books, and she’s an  _ amazing  _ kisser.” Elsa doesn’t have to see herself to know her face is beet red now. “So, you know, I’m trying to work up the nerve to ask her out. What do you think? Any ideas?” Maren’s lips are pulled into what has to be the cockiest grin Elsa’s ever seen. Elsa clears her throat.  _

_ “I’d say you have plenty of nerve already.”  _

_ Maren laughs.  _

_ “Okay, maybe. But-”  _

_ “ _ But _ ,” Elsa interrupts. “If you  _ did  _ want to ask this woman out, I’d suggest you offer to take her to the botanical gardens, because they might be her favorite part of the city. Maybe see if she’s not working on Friday.”  _

_ Maren is beaming at her, lip caught between her teeth.  _

_ “That so? Well, thanks for the advice, Snowflake. I’ll get right on that.”  _

_ Elsa can only stare into her eyes - Maren looks like she wants to devour her. Elsa thinks she wouldn’t mind that one bit. But she breaks the spell.  _

_ “I’m off in 20 minutes. Are you hungry for some pancakes?”  _

* * *

When Elsa wakes the next morning, she’s got two missed calls and a voicemail from Maren. She looks at the timestamp: 1:24am. She’d dozed off long before that, and she’s starting to feel concerned for Maren’s health after so many late nights, especially when she’s always in different time zones. She presses play,  leaves her phone on the pillow next to her. 

“Hi, baby. You must be sleeping. Which is good, because it’s late as  _ fuck _ . I’m on driving duty tonight, ugh. It’s like driving a boat. Anyways, you know what I was thinking about? That time we were at family Christmas with Anna and Kristoff and Ryder, and you got  _ so  _ drunk on champagne.” 

Elsa’s heart skips a beat at “family”. 

“Like, I think that’s the only time I’ve ever seen you really drunk. And Anna was trying to cut you off, but you kept sneaking back into the kitchen every time it was her and Kristoff’s turn in charades. Man. You were all over me! You’re a very flirty drunk, Els. And then you fell asleep in Anna’s bed, and none of us knew what to do, so we all just slept in the living room. I don’t know what made me think of that. But that was a great night, huh? Or maybe you don’t remember.” Her tone is so light, teasing, and Elsa can tell how high her spirits are. It makes her smile. 

“I’m excited for Christmas this year. I mean, it’s like eight months away, but who cares? Really I just want to watch the snowflakes stick to your cheeks.” Maren sighs. 

“I’m writing a song right now, wanted to run it by you. My best critic. Can’t play guitar and drive at the same time, or so Ry says, so here are the lyrics.” 

_ I’ll do anything it takes to get through _

_ I can carry you to any distance _

_ No one’s ever gonna love you like I do _

_ This time I’m different _

“Just a concept, I guess, but I like it. Reminds me of a certain bookshop girl I know. Okay, it’s late and my espresso’s wearing off, so I better focus. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Snowflake. Hope you’re having sweet dreams.” 

Elsa wipes at the tears that have formed in the corners of her eyes and opens their text thread.

**That one’s a keeper.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much to everyone who has read and commented so far! i'm glad so many people share my enthusiasm for band aus. as always, feel free to find me on tumblr @thedarkestseas


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> M rating applies to this chapter! Again, the song featured is Love Letters by Paper Route.

_ A dozen tiny heads bounce off the stage in a line. Even from a distance, a brilliant shock of platinum hair is visible. Iduna hurries to hallway, three year old slung across her shoulder, eager to be the first there. It’s only a moment before she spots her. _

_ “Elsa!” The little girl turns to find her, her face lighting up, and runs toward her. _

_ “Mama! Did you see me dance?” _

_ Iduna sets Anna down onto the floor, holding the hand that’s not currently in her mouth so she can’t wander away. With one arm she hugs her eldest, kisses her cheeks.  _

_ “You were so good, baby! I’m so proud of you!” She smooths out the wrinkles on the shoulders of her periwinkle body suit, fluffs her tiny tutu. Anna pulls her fingers out.  _

_ “Elsa dance good!”  _

_ “That’s right, Anna, Elsa was wonderful!” _

_ Elsa smiles, glowing in the praise from her family. But after a moment, her lips turn to a frown. _

_ “Mama, where is papa?” _

_ Iduna worries at her lip, grabbing her daughter’s hand. She leads them both to the coat rack, gathering Elsa’s things. _

_ “Papa couldn’t be here, Elsa. He got really busy at work. But he was so sad to miss you, pumpkin.”  _

_ The tears in Elsa’s eyes threaten to make Iduna break. It’s not the first time Agnarr’s broken a promise to the girls, but she can hardly blame him. He’s working crazy hours in his new job as district attorney, gunning to be mayor one day. She knows it’s the sacrifice he makes to give their family a good life.  _

_ So Iduna takes her daughters for ice cream, sings them to sleep, and prays it’ll all be worth it one day.  _

* * *

“That’s Ryan, she does our sound. And Olaf, our tour manager - kind of a weird dude, but nice enough. Samantha is our guitar tech, we literally could not do anything without her. They’re all excited to meet you, Els.” 

Elsa knows she should be paying closer attention as Maren walks her around the empty venue floor, but she can’t help but stare at her girlfriend instead. She looks thinner, especially in her face, and Elsa now sees up close the dark circles she first noticed in the interview. She wants to run her thumbs across them, brush the exhaustion from her love’s face. 

“Babe?”

Elsa shakes her head.

“Sorry, just zoned out for a second. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were getting hungry. We can go grab a bite before soundcheck.”

“Oh, yes, sounds great.” 

Maren takes her by the hand.

“Here, let’s go this way. If we run into Ryder and Bruni they’ll make us all go for tacos.”

* * *

The show is nothing Elsa could have imagined. The venue is much larger than anything Northuldra has played in Arendelle. A line wraps around the building, once and then twice, hours before doors are opened. Out of curiosity, Elsa walks past - it’s mostly young women, a few men here and there, buzzing with excitement. She hears people talking about the upcoming Grammy nominations, Northuldra’s new music video, how shiny Maren’s hair is. Olaf has secured her a VIP pass for the week, letting her go in and out of the venue as she pleases. 

Elsa watches Northuldra soundcheck, and it’s a different side of Maren than she’s ever seen. She’s like a warrior, Elsa thinks, tuning her guitar and barking instructions to Ryder and Bruni, a natural-born leader. It’s what people always said about her father. 

“ _ It’s gotta be tight _ ,” Maren reminds them over and over. “ _ Keep the tempo driving _ .” Rolled sleeves reveal strong muscles in her forearm while her feet stomp down on her pedal board, mastering transitions on the new song they’re rehearsing. It’s the one Maren had left on her voicemail, coming to life with synth tracks and the rhythm section. When they’ve gone through a few times, Maren puts her lips to the mic, breathless from the soaring vocals of the bridge, and looks down from the stage at the floor.

“How’s it sounding, Els?” Elsa gives her a wide smile and two thumbs up. Maren grins.

“Alright boys, you feeling good about this one?” Bruni and Ryder respond with an exploding fist bump. 

Elsa is overwhelmed when the lights go down. She stands sidestage, closest to Bruni, and sees the crowd of people pushing against the barricade, hands outstretched. Their cheers are deafening, louder than anything Elsa’s ever heard. And the most tantalizing thing is that Maren is in complete control. She’s clearly been learning, honing that rare skill it takes to command a crowd. She can bring the mood down for a ballad, call for the lights to go out and within seconds every person in the room is using their phone like a lighter. And just as quickly, she can drive them wild, jumping from the kick drum and pulling a riff out of her guitar. 

Elsa is entranced. It almost reminds her of the speeches her mother would give, opening campaign rallies, sharing messages of progress and hope with local highschoolers. Maren keeps glancing over at her, a smirk on her face, and Elsa thinks she knows exactly what she’s doing. 

When Maren announces they’re going to play a new song, the crowd loses it.

_ From the longest winter _

_ To the coldest summer _

_ Like the Midwest thunder _

_ You have pulled me under _

Elsa could swear she’s on fire. 

* * *

After the show, and the autographs in the chilly back alley, and the high fives from Bruni and Ryder,  Maren tugs on Elsa’s hand, leading her toward the tour bus. 

“You coming, Els? We have an extra bunk for you.”

Elsa can’t help but let out a full body laugh. The absurdity of the two of them sleeping in  _ separate  _ bunk beds, falling asleep to the sound of Ryder’s snoring, is too much for her. Sometimes, Maren can be so obtuse.

“Mare, I got us a hotel room.”

Her girlfriend blinks.

“Oh, you are a genius. A sexy, sexy genius.”

They call an Uber under the marquee of the venue, and while they wait, their hands begin to wander. Elsa’s arms are wrapped around Maren’s waist, and Maren’s teeth nibble at Elsa’s earlobe. 

Things progress in the back of the Uber: Maren’s hand sneaks up the inside of Elsa’s thigh, brushing the edge of her skirt. 

Elsa leans over to whisper in her ear. 

“Good things come to those who  _ wait _ .”

Even in the dark, Elsa can see her pout. 

When they finally reach the hotel room, Elsa finds it difficult to fit the keycard in its slot with Maren’s mouth working its way down her neck. 

“Woah there, lady killer,” Elsa says breathlessly. “Just give me a second.” 

Maren obeys with one last kiss, but she doesn’t take her hands off of her girlfriend’s waist.

“Stop pouting. There, it’s open.”

“Thank god.” And with that, Maren slams the door shut, pressing Elsa firm against it. 

“Honeymaren,” Elsa breathes, every syllable punctuated by kisses down to her sternum. 

“Jesus,” Maren growls, slipping her hands under Elsa’s shirt to feel the taut skin above her ribs, “I love it when you call me that.”

Elsa moans as Maren’s hands move up to cup her breasts over her bra, and she buries her fingers in thick brown hair. Maren’s tongue slides hot and eager into her mouth, hips grinding into hers and pushing her into the door, and Elsa’s head starts spinning. 

“I missed you,” Elsa whines into her mouth, “god, I missed you.” Maren’s fingers are working at the button of her jeans, unzipping in a way that provides a wonderful pressure. She nearly yelps. 

“All those nights on the fucking  _ bus _ ,” Maren whispers, dragging her tongue from the crook of Elsa’s neck to her ear, “it was torture. I thought of you constantly. Of this.” And that’s all the warning she gives before slipping her hand inside Elsa’s underwear.

“Honey!” Elsa cries, pulling at the base of Maren’s hair and biting down on the soft skin of her shoulder. 

“ _ Fuck _ , I missed this.” Two fingers move in tight circles as Elsa’s voice climbs higher. 

“Baby, baby,” Elsa moans, pressing her hand into her girlfriend’s shoulder, “not,” her breath catches when Maren’s fingers slide lower, “not here. Take me to bed.” 

“Mmm, yes ma’am.” Maren’s arms wrap strong around her thighs to lift her off the ground, carrying her across the room. She sets Elsa down on the bed, laying the length of her body against hers. Maren kisses her briefly before making her way down the valley of her breasts, determined to leave as many hickeys as she can. 

“Ugh,” her head falls to her girlfriend’s shoulder, “we only get this for one night?”

Elsa shakes her head. 

“I’ve booked us for different hotels each night.” Maren’s eyes light up. 

“Have I mentioned I love you lately?”

* * *

Afterward they lie facing each other, fingers laced together on the pillow between them. Maren uses her free hand to stroke a pinky down the curve of Elsa’s nose. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Maren murmurs, and Elsa hums, chuckling. 

“That’s never a good thing.”

Maren rolls her eyes.

“Ha ha. I do have good ideas every once in a while, you know. But no, I’ve just been thinking that...it’s silly for you to find a new place when Anna and Kristoff are married.” Maren snuggles closer, tracing a pale eyebrow with her thumb. Her voice is softer than Elsa’s ever heard. “You already have a home.”

“Maren…”

“Move in with me,” she breathes against her lips, eyes locked on her girlfriend’s. 

Elsa’s never felt so certain before. She’s here, halfway across the country in a strange town, a nondescript hotel room, and yet Maren’s fingers at the nape of her neck are all she needs to feel safe. 

“Okay. You’re right.” She nods, her lips pulling up at the corners. “Let’s do it.” 

Elsa can feel Maren’s fist pump in the air as she kisses her, and she can’t help but snicker. 

Maren glances at the clock on the nightstand. 

“Shit. Bus is leaving in like 4 hours. We better get some sleep.” 

“You only have yourself to blame. You’ve been quite busy the past few hours.” 

Maren fistpumps again, both hands this time. 

“Worth it!” 

* * *

It doesn’t take long for Elsa to settle into Maren’s pre-show rhythm. They stay in bed until 10, falling in and out of sleep with lips pressed to bare skin. Eventually one drags the other out of bed, and after a shower that takes much longer than necessary, they stumble into sunlight in search of food. They find a diner in every new city and decide that Arendelle does, in fact, have the best cinnamon rolls, and they take too many silly selfies on the way to the venue. 

By noon, Maren’s helping with load-in; though Elsa offers each time to help, Maren will only let her watch (which Elsa doesn’t mind - after so many shows, Maren’s biceps  are larger than ever). Elsa learns there’s a lot of time spent waiting around in foreign rooms, often hot and cramped, or in the bus, arguably more hot and more cramped. Soundcheck is a brief interruption of the monotony, though Elsa notices how Sam the guitar girl’s eyes linger a little too long when her girlfriend is testing vocals. 

Halfway through the week, Maren hangs back at soundcheck to restring her acoustic guitar, so Bruni and Ryder lure Elsa into yet another hand of blackjack in the tiny tour bus living room. 

“I can’t believe you guys get to stay in hotels every night,” Ryder whines. 

“Yeah, can someone tell Olaf we need that? Like, for creative purposes?” Bruni takes a swig of beer. 

“I’m sure Maren and Elsa are doing a lot of  _ creating  _ in their room every night.” Ryder and Bruni howl, high-fiving each other. Elsa rolls her eyes. 

“When you two are done being children, it’s  _ your  _ turn, Bruni. Honestly, I don’t know how Maren puts up with you.” 

“Oh, Maren acts all prim and proper, but we  _ all  _ know she’s just as gross as we are.” 

It’s nice, Elsa thinks, obscene jokes aside - she enjoys spending time with the boys, and she finds that conversation comes easier than she had thought it might. She can see (quite possibly for the first time) why they’re bandmates worth sticking with. 

“You know,” Ryder starts, “when we were kids, Maren was  _ always  _ putting on some sort of show. She’d do anything to get attention - which, of course, she didn’t get, because mom was busy working 3 jobs just to feed our ungrateful mouths. One time, when we were like 15, she wrote out a standup routine.” She hung a sheet from the living room ceiling as a backdrop and everything, and she was going to perform it when mom got home one night. Her opening line was, ‘What do you call a lesbian with long nails?  _ Single! _ ’ And  _ that  _ is how she chose to come out to our mother.” 

Bruni is laughing, but something about the story makes Elsa’s insides turn. Maren hasn’t shared a lot about her upbringing - probably as much as Elsa has, which isn’t saying much. But an image of young Maren, so lonely and desperate for validation, is one that makes her sad. 

“How did your mom take it?” Elsa asks, though in her heart she knows the answer. Maren and her mother haven’t spoken in years. 

“Not good. She mostly just went off at Maren for messing around, you know, putting together shit like that when she could be working. Mind you, she _ was  _ working like 20 hours a week on top of school. We both were.” Ryder’s voice has an edge, and he stares into his drink. 

“Maren’s really proud, not that she’ll admit it. That we’re out here, making this work. I think she’s terrified she’s going to mess it up. She feels the same way about you, too.” 

“About me?” 

“Oh yeah,” Bruni replies, “you should see her when Olaf tells her to put her phone down. She’s a total bi - bad person,” Elsa laughs when Bruni catches himself. 

“That’s Maren, though: project confidence, reject weakness. One day she’s gonna realize it’s killing her inside.” 

“You guys talking about me in here?” Maren asks, the door of the bus swinging open. Ryder quickly examines his cards. 

“Boom! 21! Oh hey, sis. What’d you say?” 

* * *

On Elsa’s last night, Maren meets her in the hotel room, collapsing on the bed. 

“Okay, tomorrow is an all-travel day, so I don’t have to do anything. So give me like  _ two  _ seconds to collapse, and then we’re gonna go out. And have an adventure.”

Elsa giggles, stroking Maren’s long mop of hair, working out the knots of sweat. Gently, she begins pulling it into a thick braid. 

“Okay. Where do you wanna go?” Maren raises her head, gives her a sneaky smile. 

It turns out the town they’re currently in (whichever town, Elsa doesn’t know how Maren can keep track) has a beautiful riverwalk, and even at a late hour it’s teeming with couples and half drunk groups of women. 

It’s nice, Elsa thinks, to be a normal couple again after all those weeks apart, and all those nights in hotel rooms. Maren looks dapper in a button down and black leather jacket, and despite herself Elsa blushes when she takes her hand. 

“Looking forward to sleeping in your own bed, Snowflake?” Maren moans. “ _ Ugh _ , I’d give anything to sleep in my bed tonight.” 

“I’m sure it’ll be nice, but it’ll probably feel too empty.” Truthfully, Elsa’s had thoughts more than once about spending the night in Maren’s apartment, sleeping in her stale, cold bed. She wonders if it still smells like her, or if all traces of her have faded. But she knows Anna will ask too many questions and likely make assumptions about her mental well-being, so she keeps that impulse buried. 

They walk in a comfortable silence, stealing glances at each other under warm street lamps. Maren’s thumb rubs at the back of Elsa’s hand. 

“How’s the wedding planning going? We’re - what - six weeks out?” 

“You know, it’s coming along,” Elsa shrugs. “I’m guessing it’s only a matter of time before Anna turns into a bridezilla.” 

“If anyone can handle intense Anna, it’s you.” 

Elsa laughs, pulling Maren over to an overlook railing to admire the view. 

“Funny, that’s what our mother always said. There were times when Anna would get so worked up, I swear she couldn’t even see straight. She’d get upset about the silliest things, too, like if we ran out of dinosaur chicken nuggets. Mother would send me in to calm her down, because she knew she couldn’t do anything to help.”

When she looks up at Maren, her gaze is intense enough to burn a hole in her. 

“You never talk about them. Your parents, I mean.” Maren sighs. “And that’s okay, you know, like, you don’t have to. I just want you to know that you can. If you want to.” Elsa gives her a knowing look, pointing to Maren and then herself. 

“Pot, meet kettle.” 

Maren laughs, a kind of bitter sound Elsa hasn’t heard from her before. 

“You got me there, Snowflake.”

Maren moves behind her, wrapping her arms tight around her waist. Elsa can feel hot breath warming her chilled ears as streetlights reflect off the water. 

“Do you ever miss her? Your mom?” She feels Maren shift, clearing her throat. 

“Mmm, that’s...a tough question. Sometimes, I guess. But I think I miss who I wanted her to be, not who she really was. I mean,” Maren’s voice is strained, frustrated, “that makes me feel like shit, right? Because she busted her ass for us. But...she was never there. No bedtime stories. No trips to the zoo. Ryder and I had to take each other to the park. And then, when the chips were down...she couldn’t accept who I am.” Maren shrugs. It’s more than Elsa’s ever heard Maren talk about her family. Elsa grabs at her forearm, squeezing gently. 

“It’s okay. To feel angry. Or so says my therapist.” To Elsa’s surprise, Maren’s body starts to shake with laughter. When she kisses Elsa’s cheek, she can feel tearstains on her face. 

“You think maybe that’s why we found each other? We could sense the deep-seated parental angst in each other and just went, yup, that’s my soulmate.”

“That’s it. Your mommy issues and my daddy issues, a match made in heaven.” 

Maren pulls her closer. 

“Well, thank god for that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! special shoutout to everyone in the midwest/east coast as we brave out this snowstorm. thanks, Elsa. 
> 
> find me on tumblr @thedarkestseas


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anna is nominated for sister of the year. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a shorter chapter this week as we reach the climax. thanks to all who have commented and read thus far!

As nice as it was to spend a week with her girlfriend, Elsa is grateful to fall back into her normal routine. She picks up extra shifts when she can and feels like they’re racing toward a finish line - she just needs to put her head down and cross it. She’s spending less nights at the diner and more at home, helping Anna put the final touches on her wedding. As she predicted, her high strung sister is becoming more so by the day. 

“ _ Why  _ don’t people understand that we have an RSVP deadline for a  _ reason _ ? Okay, I just need to move the Weaseltons to a new table and that’ll fix it. Did you get your dress fitted?” she asks, looking over her planning. 

Elsa glances up from her LSAT study guide, taking a sip of wine. She nods. 

“Yes, it’s all set.”

Anna’s eyes soften. 

“You’ll look gorgeous. Do you know what Maren’s wearing?” 

“Hmm, I’m not sure. I can ask her, if you’d like.”

“Well, she does really strike me as the dress type.” Elsa laughs in agreement. “And it’s hard to mess up a tux. I trust her.”

Elsa blushes at the thought of her girlfriend in a tuxedo. 

Anna drinks deeply from her wine glass, clearing her throat. 

“Hey Els, I haven’t asked you this yet because, well, I kind of figured it was a given. But...will you give me away?” 

Elsa sighs, putting down her book to sit next to her sister. She doesn’t have to say anything for Elsa to understand how hard it is for her to go through this without their mother and father there. She takes her hand. 

“Oh, Anna. I’d be honored.”

Anna wraps her in a side hug, sniffling. 

“I can always count on you.” 

* * *

_ “Anna, I need to talk to you about something.” Elsa’s voice shakes as she picks at her vegetables, suddenly feeling nauseous. _

_ “Am I finally going to find out why you’ve been acting so weird lately?” Anna eyes her curiously.  _

_ “What? I have not been...acting weird.” _

_ “Oh, really? Because you’ve been sneaking around and not even coming home some nights, and you jump about a foot any time I go near your phone. So? What’s up, weirdo?" _

_ Elsa takes a deep breath.  _

_ “I met someone.”  _

_ Anna squeals, dropping her fork as her hands move excitedly.  _

_ “I knew it! You are not subtle, Els. So, who is he?” _

_ Elsa blushes.  _

_ “Well, that’s...really what I wanted to talk to you about.”  _

_ “Oh god, does he only wear open toed shoes? Is he a  _ Republican _? Because I’ll have to break this thing up if that’s the case. We don’t need any  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ shit in this family.”  _

_ “Anna, no, it’s--” _

_ “You’re not pregnant, are you? Oh god, please tell me you’re not pregnant.” _

_ “No! Anna, no, I just--”  _

_ “Then out with it, sis, what’s going on?”  _

_ “Anna, the person I’m seeing is a woman.”  _

_ Anna blinks at her for a moment, and Elsa fears the worst. She’s known she’s gay since she was a teenager, even more so when Anna was fawning over any boy with nice eyes and a pulse, something she couldn’t relate to in the slightest. But still, it’s something she’s always kept to herself; she’s never had any reason to bring it up. _

_ Until now.  _

_ Anna shakes her head.  _

_ “ _ That’s  _ your big secret? Oh, Elsa, you are so precious.”  _

_ “What?”  _

_ “Come on! We’ve known you’re gay for forever!” _

_ “Wait, who’s we?” _

_ “Oh, mother and I used to speculate how long it would take for you to come out. We always hoped you weren’t hiding it for father’s sake, or anything like that.”  _

_ “No, no, I wasn’t, but -  _ mother  _ knew?” _

_ Anna laughs.  _

_ “We’ve already established that you are  _ not  _ subtle. You think we didn’t notice how obsessed you were with dad’s re-election campaign manager?” She smirks, and Elsa goes red. Amanda  _ was  _ incredible, and also the first out lesbian Elsa had ever encountered.  _

_ Anna takes her hand softly, putting jokes aside.  _

_ “Elsa, it doesn’t matter to me who you love. All that matters is that you’re happy.” Elsa feels tears spring to her eyes. “Now, tell me about this girl!”  _   
  


* * *

Elsa wakes late the next day, the anniversary of her parents’ death. Warm light streams through the window, hitting the photo on her bedside. 

It was one of those rare, beautiful days with them; when she was in a good mood and Anna wasn’t annoyed and her father was  _ there _ . The four of them smile back at her, standing on the steps of city hall, blissfully unaware of the tragedy awaiting only a few months later. Her mother’s arm is wrapped around her waist, her father’s hand firm on her shoulder. 

Elsa closes her eyes, breathing deeply against the stinging in her chest. She reaches blindly for the phone on her nightstand, squinting as she finds Maren’s number. She sighs as the phone rings, trying to ease the anxiety that’s building in her chest. 

The other line picks up but before she can say anything, there’s a voice in her ear.

“Els, holy shit, I just got off the phone with Oaken. We got nominated. For a  _ Grammy _ ! A fucking Grammy!”

“I - what?” She’s still groggy, her brain slow to process Maren’s words. 

“I mean obviously, awards are not the most important part but this is going to be such a big deal for our career moving forward, I mean, Best New Artist! I can’t believe—“

“Maren, slow down, I-”

“Oaken says we’re one of the only female-fronted bands to ever be nominated in that category. I feel like I’m dreaming! Ryder and Bruni are still sleeping but wait til I tell them, they’re going to-”

“ _ Maren _ !” Elsa snaps, cognition catching up with her. The harshness of her tone takes her by surprise. “Are you even interested to know why I called?”

“I—what? I’m sorry, I just wanted to—“

“Just wanted to talk about Northuldra. Honestly, Maren, it feels like half our relationship revolves around your job these days.”

Maren sighs, anxiety evident. 

“Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry, Els, what’s up?”

Elsa bites at her lip, tears welling in her eyes. The anger that had just swelled inside her took her by surprise. 

“It...it doesn’t matter. Congratulations on your nomination.”

“About that…” Maren starts. “So the ceremony...it’s the same day as the wedding. Anna and Kristoff’s, I mean.”

Elsa’s blood runs cold. All these months, she’s been counting on Maren to be home in time. To be there for her. 

“So, what? You’re not coming?”

“Fuck, Elsa, you know I want to be there. It’s just, this is a huge deal for us, and—“

“No. I get it. It’s fine.”

“ _ Elsa _ ” Maren’s voice is firm, “I know you’re not fine with this. Please don’t shut me out, come on. I’m here for you.”

Elsa laughs, a chilling, harsh sound. She stands, pacing her room. 

“Maren, you can’t possibly be  _ here  _ for me when you’re on the other side of the country.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m _ scared _ , Maren. I’m scared the wedding isn’t the only thing you’ll miss.” Elsa’s voice lowers, biting tone abandoned as fear consumes her. “I’m scared that you’ll miss good days  _ and  _ bad days. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Tests and graduations.” Her voice is so soft. “What about children, Maren? All those things we want, everything we’ve dreamed of, are they really realistic if you’re not here for months on end?”

Tears are running down her face now, but Maren scoffs in disbelief.

“I need you to  _ support  _ me, Elsa, not guilt trip me. I know this is tough, but...this is all I’ve ever wanted. Everything I’ve worked  _ so  _ hard to get. I thought you got that.”

“Maren I do, it’s just—“

“Just that you’re in Arendelle, always in Arendelle, pretending you’re stuck at a part-time job and some crappy diner.” Maren’s voice is vicious now. “We both know that if you really wanted to, you could be out here on the road with me all the time.”

Elsa mind goes numb. It’s a low blow for Maren to bring her wealth into this. 

“You’re right, Honeymaren, I could. But excuse me for not sacrificing everything just to wait around for you in some hotel room. That bookstore, that crappy diner, my sister - this is my home. I’m not just going to give that up for a tour bus and some smoky green rooms.” 

“Right. You’re too good to be slumming it out here with me.”

“You  _ know  _ that’s not what I meant.”

A strained silence hangs in the hundreds of miles between them. Elsa’s pacing has stopped. 

“God dammit, I have to go.” Maren sighs again, letting out an exhausted growl. “I’ll...talk to you later.”

“Right.”

“Bye.”

“Bye.”

* * *

Later that night, Elsa lays in bed. Her head is aching, eyes finally empty of tears. She clutches at her pillow, staring out the window as the colors of the city paint the wall of her bedroom. The sounds of the cars below, trains in the distance, form a symphony that’s been her bedtime lullaby since she was a child. She keeps her phone nearby, though she knows, deep down, that no one’s texting her tonight. She doesn't know what she’d say if they did. 

A quiet knock at the door breaks her reverie. 

“Elsa?”

_ Anna _ . In her misery, Elsa had completely forgotten that Anna would need her today. She feels a wave of guilt wash over her. 

Anna opens the door, peeking her head in. 

“Hey, you okay? You never came out for dinner—“ as she approaches the bed, she sees the sad state Elsa is in. 

“Elsa! What’s wrong?” She takes her sister by the hand. Elsa wipes at her nose, sitting up. 

“Anna, I am so sorry. I shouldn’t have skipped dinner. Are you okay?”

“ _ Me _ ? Elsa, you look—well, you’ve looked better, honestly.” Her face softens. “Is this about mother and father?”

Elsa shakes her head, looking down at her lap. 

“No. Well, not really. Maren and I had an argument.”

“Oh, Elsa.”

“She’s not coming to the wedding. Work stuff.” 

“That sucks. That really sucks. But it’s just one night, Els.”

Elsa drops her hand, walking to the window. 

“Until it’s not, Anna. Can I really trust that this is the only time this will ever happen? I just...I don’t know how we can make this work.”

“Oh sis,” Anna walks toward her, “you are such an idiot.”

Elsa shoots her a stern look. 

“I know. You’re afraid she’ll leave you, like our parents did. But Elsa, you can’t just close yourself off every time you get scared. Do you think there weren’t times I thought the same thing about Kristoff? At some point, you just have to decide that your love is greater than your fear.”

“How do I know when I’m at that point?”

Anna shrugs. 

“Mother always taught us about intuition. I think I took that more to heart than you did.” She laughs. “When are you going to trust yourself, Elsa? When are you going to trust that you’re a person worth sticking with? I’m not going anywhere, and I don't think Maren is either. I’m pretty sure she would move mountains to be with you.” 

“Yeah, but if she can’t be here—“

“Then you picked the wrong girlfriend, Els. Her work is a package deal.” Anna pauses. “You love her, right?”

Elsa nods. 

“Then you have to trust that the rest will figure itself out.”

Elsa’s not so sure. But she doesn’t want this day to be all about her, so she guides Anna to the bed. The lay down, snuggling close. 

“When did you get so smart, huh? I think you would out-wit father any day.” They both laugh, clinging to each other. After a moment, Anna looks at her sister, eyes filling with tears as her body begins to shake. 

“I miss them so much, Elsa.”

She looks at Anna, this brave, beautiful beam of light in her life. She has been so strong in the years since their parents’ death, stepping in as the public face of the family while Elsa hid between bookshelves. She’s been the one to continue mother’s work, influencing policy and campaigning for local officials she believes in. Elsa has no doubt she’ll one day follow in her father’s footsteps to lead the city of Arendelle. 

But right now, she is broken; that little girl Elsa’s wanted to protect since the day she was born. And so Elsa puts her own feelings aside and holds her sister close as she cries. 

She hears her phone chirp on her nightstand, but it’s not until the break of daylight that she checks it. 

**Maren: I’m sorry.**


End file.
